God, pick up the pieces.
Put me back
together again.
YOU ARE MY PRAISE!
~Jeremiah 17:14
Over the summer my oldest daughter, Eden, and her family traveled to Turkey. While in Turkey, they bought family members and other loved ones precious gifts. Many of these gifts were beautiful carefully handcrafted pieces of pottery. The day they arrived home, I picked them up from the airport really late at night and once we arrived at their house Eden and Corey couldn't wait to unpack their bags and show me all the wonderful things they had brought back. I was so impressed with the time and effort they had taken to meticulously wrap and protect their treasures. They were wrapped in bubble paper and then in shopping bags and then in a layer of clothing and lastly snuggled so carefully into little nooks of their suitcases. As they were pulling the pieces out one by one and carefully unwrapping them, they would hold them up and show me each piece and talk about where they purchased the item and how they had made specific choices for each person so carefully.
As Eden pulled the package that was intended for me out of her suitcase, we heard a rattle. You know, that kind of rattle that tells you the items inside are not in perfect order any longer. The kind of rattle that sort of makes your heart sink just a little because you know the contents are broken. The look on her face went from joy and excitement to a little bit of sadness and disappointment as she carefully and slowly unwrapped the piece of pottery. As expected it was broken into several pieces; some large, some just slithers and some practically dust. Who knows how it got broken. Was it carless baggage handlers? Was it turbulence? Was it not wrapped as tightly as the other pieces? Was it just one of those things that really has no explanation, the pressure of the current situation was just more than the pottery could withstand? Why did all the other pieces in the same baggage receive no damage? Doesn't seem fair. Why was that piece singled out?
Eden quickly offered to give me something she had bought for herself. There was something in me that just wanted the broken one. I told her I could glue it back together and it would be fine. Full disclosure, part of me really just didn't want my daughter to be sad or to give up something that she had chosen for herself. Part of me really wanted the broken one, I don't know why.....but I did. I took the broken pieces home with me and just put them on a shelf in my garage thinking someday I would get around to gluing them together.
Those broken pieces have sat on my shelf for several months and I see them every single time I get in or out of my car. Sometimes when I see them my heart feels a little sad that my gift is sitting there unusable and other days I think....I really should just glue these pieces back together.
Last night when I pulled into my garage and saw the broken pieces, I felt God urging me to just sit down and glue the pieces back together. As I sat down at my table and started gluing, my first instinct was to glue the 2 larger pieces together first and then add the other smaller parts. What I discovered was that the little pieces didn't fit in the cracks the way they should. I had to break the 2 large pieces apart again to get the little pieces into place. The pieces broke apart fairly easily because the crack had already been established. I just put a little pressure on it and they fell apart. I am certain I could not have broken this little bowl with my bare hands if it had not been previously shattered. I also realized that if I tried to rush my process it didn't look as nice and it would force other pieces to fall back off. Basically, I had to start with the small pieces and let them settle and dry before I could move on to making it whole again. My stubborn personality led me to try to get it all back together in one step more than once. Inevitably, I had to put it together piece by piece in an order that allowed it to all become a single piece again. Once I surrendered to the process, most all the pieces went back into place and the bowl looks beautiful. Don't get me wrong, it's not like it was when my daughter bought it and it definitely has 'scars' and a few missing pieces, but all in all it is back together and serving the purpose it was intended. It will be proudly displayed in my house in all it's splendor.
God sure taught me a lot putting that little bowl back together.
The last 5 months have been extremely difficult for me. Difficult on a lot of levels. Overwhelming might be a better word to use. I have had moments....days even where I didn't think I could breathe. I didn't know how I was going to make it through, I couldn't see a light at the end of the tunnel. I was broken. Broken emotionally. Broken financially. Broken spiritually. Broken physically. Broken with fear. Broken with heartache. Broken with longing. Broken with sadness. Broken with worry. Broken with loneliness. Just broken into so many pieces. I broke so easily this time. I have always been a strong woman. I have considered myself a conqueror, an overcomer.....a you better run from me Satan, because I'm coming for you kind of woman. A me and God have this kind of woman. Not this time. This time I crumbled into so many little pieces. This time was different. This time on 2 separate occasions the enemy got so deeply in my brokenness that I actually considered just ending it all. All I wanted to do was be with Jesus. I didn't want to have to fight. I didn't want to be sad. I didn't want.....I just didn't want. How did I get here? Where did my strength go? That little bowl showed me that I break easier than before, maybe because I have been broken previously and maybe because the new breaking can make room to heal other parts of my life.
In early June I went into work on a Saturday morning just as the sun came up overwhelmed with so many things in my life. I arrived at my desk with a belly full of energy drinks and a pocket full of pills. This is hard to write. I have told no one about this day, but God has told me it is necessary. Necessary for me to own this truth. Necessary to maybe encourage someone else. Necessary. I was going to do the work I needed to do and then just swallow the pills. I was positive that the combination of energy drinks and pills would just give me a heart attack. That I and the world around me would just be better off with me in heaven. I was broken and just felt like there was no putting me back together. I was tired and worn. Satan was in my head. As I tried to complete my tasks, my pastor called me to his office. He told me I looked like I was about to have a breakdown. He was more right than he knew. I was having what was most likely a breakdown. His words made me change my mind about the pocket full of pills. He told me that he wasn't willing to sacrifice anyone's life and that I needed to rest before I do anymore work. He thought my life was worth it. He had no idea what my thoughts and plans were. He thought the words he was speaking were related to physical exhaustion, physical ailments.......reality he was speaking directly to my mental state and spiritual health. I know my family thought I was worth it. I know I didn't want them to be sad, but at that moment I seriously thought they would be ok if I was Jesus (with a clear mind and perspective, I know how wrong and selfish this thought was). Y'all, the enemy is real and manipulative. Full of lies that at times seem so rational. He wasn't telling me not to love Jesus. He was telling me a twisted truth of how comforting it would be to just fall into Jesus' arms and tangibly feel His embrace. He was right, one day it will be so awesome to fully embrace Jesus with the full weight of his arms around me. But he twisted it in the lie that forcing my departure from earth under my own terms was ok. He has and will always be a liar. Jesus thought I was worth it. Jesus sent a man to tell me my life was worth it, even if that man had know idea what level of truth he was speaking to me. His words came straight from the lips of Jesus. I went home with a plan to live and a reminder that I matter.
In September I was struggling. The enemy knew it. He was ready to pounce. I left myself wide open! I again let this world overcome me and I once again just wanted to be with Jesus. This time, I was able to remind myself that God has overcome the world! So even though the world was trying to overcome me.....Jesus was bigger and Jesus was better. This time, I told my family my thoughts. This time I created a team of warriors to pray from that day forward that the enemy will never be able to even whisper those thoughts to me. This time I cover myself and my family in prayer every single day that the stinking devil cannot talk to any of us that way.
For transparency purposes, I will tell you that I am still broken. I am still sad and worry at times. I still have a lot of burdens. I still cry more often than I would like to admit. But God, my family and friends...and that little bowl are reminding me that things can be put back together. It takes time, it takes patience, it takes the right order.
I have an amazing family and support system. A family that shows me every single day how much they love me. I love my family with all my heart and vow that I will never ever have to tell them I am having those kinds of thoughts again. I maybe broken, but they hold me together. They are there for me on every single level of brokenness I described. I pray I do the same for them. We are a team and we will not let this world become more than we can handle......because every single day we will remind ourselves and each other that we fight from victory and not for it.
I was telling a friend just yesterday that I would do battle for her. Anyway, anytime. She needs it. She is broken too. In a very different way she is broken. But God.....but friends......but faith. She is getting there one day at a time! When I was talking to her I was so easily prepared to stand in the gap for her on the days she just couldn't do it for herself. I meant every word. Because I know the feeling of knowing that there is a God in heaven, but still having trouble just breathing because this world doesn't make sense. I know the truth of fear and sadness that is so strong it overwhelms you and just being too tired to utter another prayer.
Friends, pray for your friends. Pray for your enemies. Pray for your loved ones. Pray for yourself.
God showed me with that little bowl that He was putting my broken pieces back together (again). That things may look a little different and that some of the pieces are just not a part of my whole anymore (and that's ok). But all in all I am still a masterpiece. I am worth it. I will feel whole again. He can and will still use me. I am usable. I will never be so broken he can't put my pieces back together. God is my Praise. My strength. My way to restoration.
